9–5
Oct 6, 2023
Do it everyday
until it’s done to death.
The quotidienne,
charm never ends.
She to me is a squadron of lipsticks,
Reserves in sterile bullets.
The near-uniform boxes quiver
Begging to remain
Unused. Untouched.
-
Maybe I’m a lipstick, in that way.
I wonder what number is under my feet?
My gloss— my shade
Will I shine, will the stain fade.
I am lipstick in that way, a servile bullet.
We stand, poised in the light,
Bright shopping chamber,
Irreplaceable once fired.
All Rights Reserved. Kira Mungai, 2023